All of this would be easier to take if we only understood that they’re the smart guys; we’re the morons.

And if we only came to realize that what we see we don’t see; we must believe only what we’re told.

Monday, Yankees team president Randy Levine — the man with the vision, resolve and business acumen to turn new Yankee Stadium into a vast mausoleum denuded of all signs and sounds of baseball life from the minute it opened, eight years ago — led with his arrogant side while lecturing assembled media on wise business practices.

Asked about the Yanks’ plans come the trade deadline, Levine said, “I don’t pay any attention to any of that. That’s for you guys [with] nothing more important to write about than to write nonsense. When we decide to become sellers, if we decide to become sellers or if we decide to become buyers, you’ll know.

“The difference is that most of you guys have never run anything, and we have a lot of history here of knowing what we’re doing.”

And that night, the Yankees played at home under Master of the House Levine’s standard conspicuous conditions: The best seats — even the second- and third-best, thousands of them — went mostly empty as a matter of obscene overpricing, more evidence of “knowing what we’re doing.”

At least when Levine’s assistant, Lonn Trost, was dispatched to explain, he left us laughing, claiming that folks spent, oh, $650 to $1,500 per up-close ticket to travel to the Stadium, then watch the games on restaurant TVs.

The day after Levine’s intemperate, baseless and perhaps self-indicting boast, the Yankees, 37-38 in late June, were down 2-0 in the eighth on Tuesday and pushing CC Sabathia past his late-career limits.

The Yanks have three good relievers. But Joe Girardi manages by “The Book” — one containing fantastic, new-age magical formulas believed and acted on by most MLB managers — thus none of those relievers is “allowed” to pitch when the Yanks are behind. And when they do pitch, it is only for their designated inning. Even if they’re perfect — three infield outs on three pitches — they’re out.

So a spent Sabathia, followed by mop-and-bucket Anthony Swarzak, made it 7-0.

Monday’s Mets-Nationals was another SNY telecast that urged a TV audience to rely on blindfolded ignorance and obedience.

In the bottom of the third, Mets up, 4-0, stylish Bryce Harper posed a “home run” off the wall into a single. Standard “the game has changed” minimalism.

“He didn’t run,” Keith Hernandez said. “He thought he had a home run. He should’ve had a double.” Obviously.

But in the top of the fifth, the Mets now down two, Hernandez performed a backflip. James Loney led off with a sinking liner to short. Presuming it would be caught, he didn’t run.

So when it was dropped, then rolled toward third, Loney began to run. He was out at first by a “game-has-changed” step.

Though Gary Cohen noted Loney is “slow-footed” — not why he was thrown out — Ron Darling flatly added that Loney “assumed he was out,” the “he thought” defense.

But Hernandez excused the inexcusable: “I will defend Loney there, because that’s a big league player out there. He’s gotta catch that ball! … When it hits the glove, you’re gonna kind of stop. It’s only natural. So it wasn’t that terrible.”

So it was only a little terrible, as if all liners are caught by “big league players out there,” thus no need for opposing big leaguers to run.

But then Hernandez, Loney’s defense attorney, convicted his client: “Isn’t that the second or third time this year we’ve seen a shortstop drop a line drive?” Well, ya don’t say?

The indisputable bottom line, though left unspoken, was clear: Had Loney run, he would have been on first, none out. He didn’t run, so he was out. One out, none on.

Dykstra cranks out sleaze with greatest of ease

Give Lenny Dykstra credit. In his latest stab at making an ugly buck — this time writing an ostensible “tell-all” — he removed all remaining pretense that he ever was anything better than a sleazeball.

He did steroids? Who knew? We just figured he suddenly showed up slugging homers and looking like the Michelin Man due to digestive problems.

The only two who seemed to miss that were commissioner Bud Selig and MLBPA boss Donald Fehr. But it was in their interest not to know or notice. The incentive to look the other way was like a Bernie Madoff deal: You’re not allowed to ask questions.

And though to know Dykstra was to know not to trust him, one who bought his self-proclaimed but sense-defying status as a genius stock tout was fellow self-proclaimed stock-market genius and I-know-Lenny-well sage Mike Francesa.

In the end, just another of Francesa’s know-everything, lost-tapes, colossally wrong touts. Dykstra did a 6½-month stretch in prison for, among other things, bankruptcy fraud.

One got the feeling Tuesday that if Michael Kay could say what he saw and thought, he would have joined us in, “That’s ridiculous!”

In the eighth, Alex Rodriguez hit a sac fly to score a run. When he returned to the dugout, YES showed Yanks lined up to congratulate him. Yeesh!

With a hint of incredulity, Kay: “You get high-fives for the sac fly, but you need more than that when you’re down, 7-0.”